On the Dissolution of the AngloJapanese Alliance
by New1Romantic
Summary: How the break down of a friendship affected the lives of England and Japan and everyone else after. Some AsaKiku tones


That child had always been a great hindrance to England. He was so big, so powerful, that he feared to rile him up – what a foolish thing to have to think of your child. But still, though he loathed it, he knew that if America went to war with Japan, England would have to help Japan and he would not be able to defend himself from America. So he sat there, in the hall for the Imperial Conference, beside his representative, deep in contemplation. His hands laced together in front of his face, covering his slightly. He wanted to renew the Anglo-Japanese alliance, he really did. Japan was a kind man, fascinating, even if he did have those moments where England saw something darker, the empire grasping at power. But then they all had that, just below the surface. More importantly, their alliance had been so good, so prosperous.

Let the idiot go to war! He wanted to cry out, selfish and irrational as it was. America was, and always had been a petulant child, never listening to his elders. He had pushed England away because he could, because he was immature and didn't realise that the Empire would be good for him, he could have been great, part of the largest empire in the world. England hated him sometimes. He didn't want to protect his interests, even if he was such a power. He was too bitter to like him. He barely liked anyone anymore.

The commonwealth had all been for the renewal of the alliance, whether out of fear or an actual like for Japan, he didn't know or care. All but Canada. He'd stared, eyes cast down as his Prime Minister implored against an alliance with Japan, to stop the rift between America and Japan. England knew that actually, it was probably too late. Japan and America would never really get along.

They turned, they all did, and turned their backs on Japan. Yet, England sat there motionless. He didn't want to break this treaty; in fact, he wanted to make it better. There had been cracks, but there were always cracks. He tried to calm the racism, tried quell the flames of tension between their people in any way possible. They could speak to the people who were suspicious, to the banks who thought that Japan was unstable – but he was being _irrational_, they said, _undemocratic_, they reminded him.

But he could not do it, he could not break it cleanly. He announced that they intended to leave the alliance, but for the time, it would continue. Japan knew what it meant. A little tearoom in Covent Garden was the last place England spoke to Japan as a friend.

That was where he said goodbye.

When England next saw Japan, it was at the Washington Naval Conference, a few months later. It came so clean; he had hoped that he would be able to delude himself in to thinking he and Japan were still on good terms. England attempted to approach him several times over those few days during the conference, but each time, Japan would turn away. He saw the anger and the hate in his eyes.

The four power treaty was nothing compared to the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. It left Japan with so little, but the Alliance with England had been shared, equal. This… This was just an insult, an American insult of western 'superiority' that England found sickening. It was the Asian propaganda, the others liked to say, it was the fact that he spent so much time with China and Japan… Why else would England seem so swallowed up by this… anti-west feeling? But this was ridiculous, England insisted, absolutely absurd. He could make his own decisions, thank you. He could see that America was becoming a little too big for his boots, taking too much power and England found he could not stand him anymore.

As they signed the treaty, Japan looked at England, when he thought he wasn't looking. For a second, he saw some sort of forlorn hopelessness, knowing that this really was the end of their alliance. They were breaking the rules, by signing this pact. But then, England felt so forlorn himself, he was sure he was just imprinting it on to the other man. When his gaze returned to Japan, he had turned steely again.

England tried to speak to Japan after that. He would not listen, pushed away when England tried to grab his arm, something he had not done previously. He then turned to England, his eyes burning, and pushed him to the floor. For a moment, England was too surprised to stand up. "I trusted you." The first words Japan had spoken to him all the time they'd been in Washington. "But you gave it up for America. I see where your loyalties lie." And he walked off with a flash of fabric from his kimono, leaving England on the floor.

"You Ethel," America bounded over, laughing at the sight of England on his back, "You shouldn't have taken that from him. He's just a yellow face, not like us." He joked, holding out a hand to help England up. England only saw red and decided to punch him instead.

For close to a year, he refused to speak to either of the Americas. It was Canada's fault just as much as it had been America's. America was perhaps the one who was petulant, but then there was Canada, the protector, the enabler. He couldn't forgive them for what they had done. He didn't care if Canada was just being sensible, England despised bowing down to America. America, who had once been his ward - he had been a brat then, he was a brat now. England couldn't stand to look at him and know what he had created. Would Rome have felt this way about him? Would any of their ancients have felt the same way about how they acted? How would they see the British Empire. He looked on it purely with pride, but he looked down on America's attempts at colonialism. No, he didn't look down on the colonialism, he hated how they walked on eggshells around him, how they feared angering the beast. How hideous. If England wanted to anger America, he would damn well anger him!

When the Second World War broke out, England was not surprised, not really. His whole life had been a constant war anyway, or so it seemed from when he looked back. He'd always been fighting with someone. The problem of course, war was so easy nowadays, so violent. Yes, there's always been war, but it was so much easier to kill each other these days. Humans were so good at killing each other, they just got better at it all the time. Like always, he chose his side, he poured himself in to it, bled for them.

He was even less surprised when Japan joined Germany. This was the next time he saw Japan. On a bloody battlefield, they stood together, alone amongst the dead and dying. That darkness was in his eyes, that one he remembered from so long ago. But gone was that shyness, all that remained was what had been hidden beneath the surface. Here was the Imperial Japan the one he had heard news of, that he had caught glimpses of once. How proud he was of him. "Japan. You look good." He said softly, even sarcastically. He did look good though, strong, proud. But so very different, he was not Japan as he remembered.

"England." He stepped closer. His accent was heavy, but his English was impeccable still. "Long time no see." He purred, sheathing the katana he had been holding. He liked getting his hands dirty, England liked that. Swords were so much better than guns, so much finer. They had more finesse, and nothing could compare to cutting someone down with a blade, to feel their life drain away. The darkness flashed in his eyes as well. "I have to thank you." He said. England raised an eyebrow. Japan leaned in close, his breath hot on England's ear. He'd always touched England a little more than anyone else, he felt so honoured. "You taught me not to trust Westerners." He laughed. England had never heard him laugh like that before, it was cold.

"You've grown so much." He smirked in reply. "One thing I've learned; never trust anyone." The smirk softened in to a smile and his eyes closed. "Oh Japan, don't you recall? Our alliance, it was so beautiful. We were the same, together, I was Japanese and you were British. Everything was perfect, was balanced, we were equals." He took Japan's head tenderly in his hands, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "You were beautiful then, my sweet, my lover. You're beautiful now."

"You sound so naive. You know our alliance was brutal and ugly. We formed it out of desperation, you were clinging to the ends of an empire, and me, desperately clawing at the beginning of mine."

He smiled slightly, "I choose to remember the beautiful parts."

"You're a fool. A romantic fool."

"Perhaps, but it keeps me sane. You're young, you'll learn."

He kissed Japan's lips gently. The other nation did not move, neither to push him away or kiss back. His lips were cold and wet from the rain, but it was a sweet kiss. Then, England stepped away, bowing slightly. He didn't bother to try and fight, the battle had already finished. He simply turned away and walked back to his camp, smiling like an idiot.

They wouldn't speak again until the War was ended, when they were far too tired to fight. England found he was too tired to hate any more, not Japan, not America. All of it was a front these days, he sat there, silent, just as he had the day they had dissolved the alliance.

And it became so difficult to see the beautiful parts any more.

_Ethel = An Effeminate man_

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><p><strong>AN: I hope it was a good read! And I hope nobody thinks I was bashing America, I think they all had their dark points, it's only showing one aspect to the show. Reviews and critisms are appreciated. Thank you for reading!**


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